


of starbucks and swearing

by tardix



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5845588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardix/pseuds/tardix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Alexander is a lil shit who doesn’t listen to anyone’s advice (especially Burr’s), John & Angelica are kickass baristas, everyone keeps spelling Peggy’s name wrong, and Eliza’s a cutie who helps Ham keep his job longer than expected (well, a bit longer).</p><p>(or the coffee shop au that literally no one asked for.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	of starbucks and swearing

**Author's Note:**

> this, my friends, is the product of being home sick with a cold and no school for the rest of the week. and it's trash. yikes please don't judge my title: tis late, and i'm tired. i have no other explanation, honestly. (also i couldn't figure out a way to include my precious child lafayette because i, like burr, am the worst.)
> 
> it was also inspired by [this](http://macaroon22.tumblr.com/post/134180562771/i-live-for-coffee-shop-au-they-are-gods-gift-to) lovely artwork on tumblr! go check out her art!! it's absolutely fantastic. :’)

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You said you wanted a pumpkin spice latte, I _specifically_ remember you saying _hot_ – Oh, _I_ need to get _my_ ears checked? Jefferson, you know better than to pull that shit with me.”

Wiping down a tabletop on the other side of the café, John hears himself sigh. “That’s the third one today,” he says, his hand stilling on the wet rag as his apprehensive gaze finds its way to their newest employee. “That’s the third customer he’s yelled at and it’s only eleven. Granted, Jefferson probably deserves it, but Christ.”

Angelica laughs dryly from behind the counter and wipes her hands down the front of her apron. Her mass of dark curls, held away from her face by only a mere hairband, bounces behind her when she hands another customer their order.

“His shift ends at two.” She pauses to raise an eyebrow at Alexander – the man in question is currently grumbling to himself, eyebrows drawn and lips pursed, as he stomps back to the latte machine – before fixing John with an amused look. “Think he’ll make it?”

John’s snort is an answer in itself.

“There. Your goddamn _iced_ pumpkin spice latte. Happy now?”

(By the outraged noise that comes from Jefferson's general direction, it can be inferred that he is not.)

“ _Hamilton._ ”

Both baristas wince sympathetically when Aaron Burr, their besieged manager, strolls out of the staff room and right up to the counter beside a still-fuming Alexander.

“So sorry for the inconvenience, sir.” The apologetic smile Burr offers Jefferson is surprisingly convincing. Reaching behind the display case, he scoops up a freshly baked muffin and adds it to Jefferson’s order. “A muffin for your trouble, free of charge. The customer is always in the right, of course. Isn’t that right, Alexander?”

Hamilton’s grumbled agreement seems to placate Jefferson enough to send him on his way, though not without a fleeting sneer – but it's Jefferson we’re talking about, what do you expect? As soon as he flees the coffee shop, the polite smile slides off Burr’s face and he turns to his newest employee, eyes narrowed. “Talk less, Alexander,” he hisses before effortlessly molding his face into a good-natured grin. “Smile more.”

Alexander looks up at his employer with wide eyes and his temper, which he’d managed to keep at a low simmer during his interaction with Jefferson, flares. “Burr, _sir_ , he was being completely–!”

“ _Talk less,_ ” Burr repeats through gritted teeth.

And Alex, as rule-abiding as ever, plasters the most utterly unconvincing expression to his face and finishes, jaw clenched in a toothy grin, “Smile more.”

John can’t help chuckle under his breath at their manager’s harried face and Alex’s obviously pained smile. Angelica has to smother a snort into her shoulder when she catches a glimpse of Burr on her way to deliver another customer’s cup of coffee. Said manager, looking a tad more beleaguered than he had before speaking to his disgruntled new employee, disappears into the staff room at the same time John rejoins Angelica behind the counter.

Their brief exchange of looks has the two tumbling into another round of laughter, and as the brunette plugs a series of commands into the cash register, a smirk begins to dance across her glossed lips. “I’ll bet you ten bucks he doesn’t make it past noon before he starts shouting again–”

But their wager – which Angelica undoubtedly would have won – is interrupted by the shrill voice of a customer. “Angelica!”

A young woman with rosy cheeks and mocha-colored curls sits at a round table nearby, an assortment of coffee cups already emptied on either side of her. Bundled up in a too-big sweater with sleeves that keep having to be pushed up her arms, she waves her latest order in the air for the two baristas to see – the name _“Penny”_ had been hastily scribbled across the cup.

“Angelica!” the woman repeats, her lips twisting into a pout. “We’re sisters! You know my name!”

“Sorry, Pam!” replies Angelica airily, but a fond smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, and she’s already got her hands on a new cup by the time Peggy heaves another indignant huff. “You know I’m only joking, sister dear. Here’s an expresso, on the house.”

After jotting a name across the side of the cup in her messy scrawl, Angelica passes the coffee off to John to deliver, a request he complies with without complaint, save for a roll of his eyes. In the time it takes him to bring the youngest Schuyler her coffee and return to his place behind the counter, Peggy’s exasperated voice has already made a reappearance.

“Angie! You _know_ it’s spelled with a _Y_ , not an _I_.”

But before Angelica has a chance to apologize, another voice pierces the air – this outburst with an intent much more vicious than Peggy’s.

“For God’s sake, Lee, make up your damn mind! It doesn’t take a genius, which you evidently _aren’t_ , to pick a muffin flavor.”

Peggy’s face pales while Angelica scowls at the cash register and grumbles under her breath, “He’s scaring away all the customers.”

John grimaces as he starts a new pot of coffee. Sneaking a glance at their newest employee out the corner of his eye, he can see the angry flush crawling across Alex’s cheeks and tinting the tips of his ears.

“He’s gonna get fired on his first day, isn’t he?” His voice sounds resigned, like he already knows the answer. Which, okay, he kind of does. Watching as Hamilton shoves the bag of assorted muffins at Lee, whose face mirrors Hamilton’s own in terms of redness, John feels his fretful frown deepen.

“Yup.”

And Alexander probably would have been fired right then and there had the arrival of the final Schuyler sister been any later.

Donning a powder blue scarf and a pair of matching earmuffs, Eliza slips inside the coffee shop, entrance heralded by the chiming bells above the door. Her cheeks, pink from the cold, dimple into a smile when her eyes land on Peggy, and she offers her sister a little wave before stepping into the line.

Alexander, for his part, had done an incredible job of watching the scene unfold without letting any drool escape his gaping mouth.

(Hercules, on his way out of the kitchen, has to elbow the slack-jawed barista twice before he composes himself.)

With a newfound resolve, Alexander manages to get through the remainder of the line in record time – both Angelica and John share knowing looks as Alex scurries to and fro behind the counter, making quick work of the customers’ orders for obvious reasons. And by the time Eliza arrives at the front, Alexander’s face has completely drained of the anger issued by having to deal with the morning’s fair few obnoxious customers – only a light flush smattering his tan cheeks gives any indication of his earlier exasperation.

“Hi,” he says, and the grin on his face isn’t one he has to force. “What can I get you today, Miss…?”

“Eliza,” she supplies with a shy smile. Then, glancing up at the menu above him, she tilts her head thoughtfully. “Could I have a chai tea latte please?”

“Of course. One chai tea for the pretty lady in blue,” he calls over his shoulder, and as Eliza’s smile widens, so does his.

Until it falters at John’s response: “Make the latte yourself, hot shot.”

Eliza muffles a giggle behind her scarf when Alex’s face falls into a pout. He offers her a sheepish, “It’ll be out in just a moment,” before pivoting on his heel and heading toward the expresso machine where both John and Angelica have gathered.

He keeps his voice hushed while he rummages for a to-go cup, unable to keep the smile off his face, “Did you see the girl at the counter? You saw her right? Isn’t she so–”

“My sister.”

Alexander double-takes and proceeds to gape at his fellow barista. “You have _another_ sister? And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Angelica fixes him with a look, her eyebrow half-raised. “I’ve literally only known you for, like, four hours.”

“I’m hurt, Angelica. Truly wounded. I believed our friendship to be one that transcended time’s cruel constraints.”

The eldest Schuyler makes a show of rolling her eyes and punctuates her wordless statement with a snort.

An indignant huff from Hamilton. “Well, I guess it’s just John and I, then. Our friendship exceeds the mediocre confines of hours, days, weeks," he drawls. "Don’t you agree, John?” He turns to Laurens with big eyes and an expectantly raised brow.

“Sure, Alex,” John hums noncommittally, albeit amused, while fixing a cup of coffee for another customer.

Apparently, that’s all the assurance Alexander needs – his face breaks into another grin and he stops paying attention to the expresso machine, so much so that the cup nearly verges on an overflow. It would have if Angelica hadn’t parted with the cash register long enough to kick him in the ankle.

“Quit making eyes at each other and go give my sister her latte before she stops thinking you’re cute.”

Alex spins around so abruptly that he just about knocks John’s cup out of his hands. “She thinks I’m cute?”

“Not for much longer.”

When Alexander returns to the counter, a to-go cup with her name penned elegantly across its side in his hand, Eliza beams at him. “Thank you, Alexander.”

His eyebrows draw together ever so slightly. “How did you know my–”

“Nametag.” The brunette nods at his apron, and the corners of her doe-eyes crinkle in amusement. Alex can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes him, despite it being at his expense.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” he pauses, then continues with a hopeful: “I’ll see you later?”

Eliza’s expression brightens. “Most definitely.”

 

Of course, Eliza can only delay the inevitable for so long.

“Sit down, John, you _fat mother-fuckstick!_ ”

 

“I’m sorry you got fired on your first day.”

Eliza stands beside Alexander outside the coffee shop, a frown decorating her features while he pulls on his coat. She tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear and worries her lower lip, still gingerly sipping the latte held in her gloved hands.

Alex brushes away his disappointment - it was bound to happen eventually, might as well have been today - and instead allows a smile, though a sheepish one, to tug up the corner of his mouth.

“If it takes me getting fired for us to meet, it will have been worth it.”

 


End file.
